slow dancing in a burning room
by sea-salt kisses
Summary: Baby, you're the only light I ever saw. — Axel, Roxas. AU.


This one-shot is a (shitty) birthday present for **sidexchan** on tumblr and Fanfiction. I hope she loves it! I will probably edit it later, but right now I am at a complete writer's block and have little/no interest to. /blatant honesty what?  
Also, if you fave this story or even like it just a little, please review. A word or two makes all the difference. Seriously.

* * *

"_We're going down,  
__And you can see it too.  
__We're going down,  
__And you know that we're doomed.  
__My dear,  
__We're slow dancing in a burning room."  
_— John Mayer, _Slow Dancing In a Burning Room_

**slow dancing in a burning room.  
akuroku. au.**

Roxas isn't one for raves. The roiling colours of the strobelights make him dizzy, head swimming and breath stuttering until he stumbles into the writhing mass of bodies, searching for balance. The music isn't to his taste. The drop of the bass and the rhythmic throb of the drums are too heavy, too weighted down. Roxas prefers Simon and Garfunkel on Sunday afternoons, to sit in an easy chair strumming out his tension and his frustration through the strings of his guitar, eyes staring vacantly, lips parted. Sometimes these afternoons include Riku on the couch opposite him lighting a joint, or Sora on the ottoman smiling at him over his knees, occasionally humming along. Sometimes it includes Naminé laying her cheek against his shoulder, playing with his sleeve as she sings along. And sometimes, it includes Axel, leaning against the wall with arms crossed and legs overlong and encased in tight black jeans. Roxas thinks of the way absinthe eyes feel locked on his face, his hands, his chest.

And Roxas thinks about the way long, thin fingers feel when they're glutted in darkness, slowly entwining themselves into the fabric of Roxas's shirt as they dance closer. The blond looks up, almost wincing as green eyes clash with blue, continuing to dance as Axel's fingers slip almost casually beneath the waistline of his jeans, the redhead grinning as he pulls him closer.

No, Roxas isn't one for raves. But Axel is. And Roxas is one for Axel.

"Move your hips, white boy," the redhead purrs, the eyes that Roxas feels on him when he plays trailing over his temple, across his cheeks to the tip of his nose, downward for a slow press against his lips. Roxas feels his tongue dart out to moisten his lips when he knows Axel is watching, and the fingers at his waist tighten.

Roxas bites his lip and looks down, envying the way the redhead can roll his hips in perfect time with the beat. Roxas gets too lost in the movements all around him to focus on his own, is "too uptight" in Axel's opinion to be able to fully relax and simply _move_. "Shut up," he mutters, surprised when Axel steps forward and wraps his arms about the waist he'd been toying with before, back bending at an almost unnatural angle to rest his forehead against Roxas's. The boy is thankful for the darkness in that moment; heat rises in his cheeks as they tinge a blaring shade of red.

"I'm just happy you came, Rox." Axel's smile dims slightly as their eye contact lingers, probably for much longer than it should. But he and Axel do many things, prance across many boundaries that, as best friends, they probably shouldn't. Because Axel has Larxene, and Roxas has Naminé, and deep down he knows how wrong this is, but when Axel stares at him like that, he can't help but fall into him.

Closing his eyes, Roxas allows his hands to trail up Axel's chest, taking pleasure in the way the strong muscles there tighten beneath his gentle pressure. Finally his arms wrap around his best friend's neck, Roxas fighting a hard battle against his own self-control not to lean forward and do something he'd regret.

Through it all, Axel's hips haven't stopped moving.

When the redhead relaxes against the touch, it's with a quiet release of his name, "_Roxas_," from between red-tinged and undoubtedly chapped lips. The tension in his body ebbs softly, wordlessly away, hands beginning to roam a little more uninhibited across Roxas's body, hips beginning to move in languid circles. Roxas keeps his eyes closed as their foreheads stay together, the feeling of Axel's gaze on him all the confidence he needs to twine his fingers into the hair at the base of the redhead's neck and tug, something he knows will make his breath hitch and his bottom lip tremble (which it does, not that Roxas sees). There's a sting that shoots through him when he realizes that everything he's learned about Axel's weaknesses, he's learned from Larxene. Pressing closer, Roxas lets his boundaries lower further, gingerly pressing their hips together, ignoring the way Axel draws his breath in, sharp and ragged. Because right now, what he wants is so close, and he can't accept how far away he is from some sort of resolution.

It's Axel who stops him, pressing their hips apart suddenly with two hands against his shoulders, eyes narrowed and glazed with something Roxas can't name. "Rox, you… you have to stop." Roxas feels a sudden pain in his chest. His greatest fear is playing out before him in shocking technicolour, accentuated with strobe lights and glow sticks. "This isn't… This is my fault. I…"

There's an upwelling in Roxas's stomach, a cold, harsh reality that pushes away all the warmth he'd felt in Axel's arms just three seconds before. Expression hardening, Roxas plants both hands on Axel's chest and shoves, harsher than he'd meant to. "You're an asshole." Shoving past Axel and into the hordes, Roxas feels what he's known all along, a suppressed worry he's tried to rebel against. The knowledge that Axel had been toying with him all along wraps about his windpipe, constricting and making him feel more light-headed than ever.

"Wait! Roxas, _wait_—"

The blond's made it out of the horde and almost to the door when he feels strong hands gripping his shoulders and spinning him. Those green eyes widen at the tears in Roxas's own. The blond grits his teeth, pulling his fist back and slamming it across Axel's cheek. The redhead stumbles back with the force of the blow, hand flying to his injury as Roxas breaks into a sprint.

This time, Roxas makes it out the back entrance and down the alleyway, turning down a second alleyway when Axel forces him against another wall, this time noticeably less gentle.

"What the _fuck_ is your problem?" Axel growls, hand rising to grip Roxas's chin and force the blonde to look at him. There are tears streaming down his face now, and this stalls the redhead like it did before. Instead of fighting back, Roxas shrivels up against the alley wall, struck with the realization that Axel is going to get to know the darkness inside of Roxas extremely well. He can't run anymore.

"Rox, why are you crying?" Axel asks quietly, fingers loosing their grip on his chin and moving to cup his cheek, thumb sliding across the skin, collecting moisture. He stares down at Roxas with something so tender in his expression that the blond wants nothing more than to run. Everything about the redhead was a lie. "Baby, what's wrong?"

At the term of endearment, Roxas stiffens. "I'm not fucking _Larxene_, Axel." He tries to pull away, but Axel's body moves forward, pressing him back against the wall and preventing him from moving at all. "It's obvious you've been playing me the whole fucking time, anyway. So you can leave. Go fuck yourself, or your girlfriend, I don't care. Do what you want, it obviously hasn't stopped you before."

There's confusion in Axel's expression now, overriding the previous tenderness until confusion and a tinge of desperation and hurt overcome the boy's face. "Roxas, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Everything!" Roxas struggles violently against the body pinning him back. "Let me fucking go, Axel, _now_!"

"Not until you tell me why you're saying this shit!"

"The way you look at me!" Roxas yells out, hands gripping painfully tight at Axel's chest. "The way you dance with me, the way you make me go to these raves with you, the way you hold me, the way you make me feel like I'm something special, only to throw me aside like some chew toy every time something goes too far. I'm not your girlfriend, Axel, and I'm not your slut, so stop playing around with me _when you know how I feel about you_!"

The boy slumps back against the wall as Axel gapes at him, new tears gathering at the edges of his vision. He opens his mouth to ask Axel to release him, once again, before the redhead's mouth snaps shut, eyes narrowing with intent. Roxas shrinks further back, convinced that Axel is now going to beat the living shit out of him when the redhead's lips seal over his own, moving furiously and Roxas is gasping and Axel's tongue shoots into his mouth and suddenly the warmth from the rave feels like a malfunctioning electric blanket because his body is on fire, and he isn't sure if it's his mouth making those sounds and he really hopes not, all he knows is the feeling of Axel's body against him and the passion and ardor of their kiss, and in the back of his mind he thinks about Larxene but it's so fleeting, such a worthless thought that he throws himself back into their kiss with an almost desperate fervor immediately after.

It's minutes before they pull away from each other, minutes that could have been hours. But then Axel has Roxas pulled to his chest, and Roxas can hardly breathe through how hard he's panting, but Axel is pressing kisses against his crown, his temple, the tip of his nose, the crook of his neck. Roxas can only grip tighter to the chest in front of him, powerless and weak against the assault.

"I thought you knew," Axel managed through his own panting, "I thought you knew all along and chose not to say anything. I… Roxas, I've loved you since we were eight years old. Larxene, she doesn't mean anything, I just…" The man was stumbling over his words, Roxas noted in a daze, still more focused on the fact that _Axel was in love with him_ than Axel's current girlfriend. "You had Naminé, and I thought you would fall in love with her and be with her, and Larxene was there and I—"

"Naminé and I aren't dating, Axel." The redhead's jaw snaps audibly shut, eyes widening. "Nor are we in love." Roxas glances down in sudden embarrassment, still on some level scared of rejection and this being some plot to hurt him. "It's always been you, you idiot. Since we were eight."

"Roxas." Axel manages his name, voice trembling and almost breaking but Roxas doesn't allow him to try and continue. The blond is the one to join their mouths this time, and Axel's arms crush him to the taller's chest, but it doesn't matter. Roxas feels like this is where he's been meant to be all along.


End file.
